A Glimpse

I swear tonight was exactly what I am afraid is going to happen to me this coming year.

My husband grew up in a traditional home where the mom did all the cooking and cleaning. You know, the *indoor girl chores*. The boys took out the trash and mowed the lawn. All that's good and fine, but I did not grow up that way. I was raised by a single mom with three daughters. It did not matter who took out the trash or fed the dog because it had to get done, plain and simple.

SO. We had this problem before when I stayed home with the kids and did not work outside of the home. My dear husband expects me to do all of the June Cleaver business now that it is my *only* job. I guess he's allowed me to let some things slack these last couple of years teaching and taking care of the kids, the laundry, the cleaning, the grocery shopping, the pets....

I swear. I think I could rip my hair out. I am so frustrated tonight.

He threw a fit that we were out of bread. I just bought a loaf like two days ago, but apparently that doesn't matter (for the record, the last loaf lasted like two WEEKS, so how was I to know?!). So, we are out of bread right now and he needed to make sandwiches to take to work. I understand that, I really do. I have a grocery list started for tomorrow when he's off. I know we are out of some things. I get it.

BUT. I do have an issue with someone being critical of me. This *me* is having trouble with the whole stay at home mom thing. I never really wanted to be one. I love my career and am good at it. The identity I derive from my career, along with mom, wife, sister, daughter... it fits me. Well, the me I think I know and want to be. Now, I am missing one of the major parts to myself and with the incident tonight, feel like my identity is being attacked. I am trying desperately not to feel like SAHM is it for me and to have a game plan so I don't lose my mind. I am trying despite the grief eating away at my soul each and every day. I am trying to hold it together, move on and do all of the normal things that a mom would do especially as we embark on a new school year.

This is not about the bread, it is about expectations. When I agreed to still stay home despite our loss, I did expect to be the sole provider of the cooking and cleaning and childcare. I did not expect to be made to feel less than.